Scarred Initials
by thechocolatesampler
Summary: Serena is out for vengeance. Ruined and bearing the marks of her attacker, she is determined to kill the man responsible as well as the King who turned a blind eye. When the attempt fails she is sentenced to rot in the dungeons. However, she escapes and attempts another assassination. When that fails, she finds herself chained in the King's very own chambers.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Apologies. I am a brainless and penniless person. Would you beat down a person who is already down? So no potential legal suits please. :)

A/N: Hello! This story is about romance and well romance. There's nothing else I can say besides, enjoy. Thanks for reading.

**Prologue:**

In a land centuries old, the capital of Terrania was in full celebration.

Honouring the King's twenty-eighth name day, the city was adorned in vivid colours. As women in bright dresses paraded down crowded streets, rose petals of varying colors were thrown up into the air, the mix stark against the blue sky. From all over the land, people crammed into the capital to see their monarch in the flesh, his reign of three years supported by the rich, the poor and the middle-class.

An annual event, the King's birthday parade was highly anticipated. As muscians kicked up a lively jig, the beat of the drums, bells and flutes had people dancing in time to the rhythm, as pickpockets and thugs lingered around the fringes of the crowd.

Despite the noise and the risk of being robbed, the King's birthday was a day to be merry; every man and every woman a friend, a brother, a sister. As song and cheer rang out, food and drink passed freely through the mass of people, stall sellers grinning from ear to ear. Standing in the middle of the milling throng, a woman stood detached, observing the joyous atmosphere with dark eyes. She hated celebrations.

An oddity among a sea of color, she was dressed in black from head to toe. With her tiny frame engulfed by a heavy cloak, she covered the lower half of her face wih a scarf, her golden hair concealed beneath the hood. With the afternoon sun beating down and the air uncomfortably hot, she was sweltering beneath the folds of material. Wiping her brow with a free hand, she ignored the curious stares, shoving hard at those who strayed too close and those who blocked her view.

Staring out at the path littered with red roses she clutched at the dagger in her hand. Feeling the etched initials on her cheek burn in vengeance, she waited for the trumpets to sound, for the people to cheer. She was out for blood.

A/N: Muahahah stayed tuned, lovies.


	2. Chapter 1: The art of knife throwing

Disclaimer: Apologies. I am a brainless and penniless person. Would you beat down a person who is already down? So no potential legal suits please. :)

A/N: I thank you all for following, liking and reviewing. It is very flattering-even more so for an amateur like myself. Thank you all so very much for giving me the boost to write...as fast as I can! I've had this in my keeping for a while now, so like it or totally bypass it, just enjoy!

_Chapter One: The art of knife throwing_

Emblazoned on banners of red and midnight blue, the rose of Terrania was a familiar sight to all. As bearers rode through the city, they passed under colorful tapestries, each one hanging proudly from the window sills of stonehouses. As acrobats and scantily clad dancers entertained the crowd, trumpets sounded the march of the soldiers.

In a river of striking uniform, soldiers on foot and on horseback marched in synchronization to the steady beat of the drums, oblivious the deafening cheers. After years of fighting their neighbors, the Terranian army had proven victorious in the war for land and power. Driving back enemy forces across the border, King Darien had managed to secure much deserved peace to his people. However, despite the achievement, his reign was in no way perfect. With the poor still starving and criminals raping and thieving as they pleased, King Darien had much work to do before Terrania could truly be at peace.

Restless beneath the afternoon sun, the day seemed to drag. As the crowd started to lose interest, the wailing of children filled the air as men and women grew short with their tempers. On the verge of turning violent, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as the trumpets blew a different tune, heralding the arrival of the King.

Standing in an entirely different position ten minutes earlier, Serena groaned. Eyeing the broad back of the man in front of her, she leapt on, silencing the man's startled cry with the cold steel of her dagger against his throat. Using her added height to an advantage she found the source of the crowd's hushed silence.

Staring out at the King, she gripped the hilt of the blade tighter, the man beneath her tense as the blade pricked his skin. Ignoring him, her gaze strayed to the Royal Guard, the King's living shadows. Tall, broad and dressed in leather and steel, they sat upon horses as black as night, their sword ever at the ready, their eyes constantly watching, scanning. King Darien's personal body guards, they shared a bond that was akin to brotherhood.

As section by section of the crowd bowed respectfully at his passing, the King was jovial as he bid them rise. Watching as he flirted with a group of young women in friendly banter, Serena rolled her eyes as they let out deafening squeals of delight, their idiocy humiliating the female population. Still a fair way off before he reached her section of the crowd, she had to admit the King cut a very fine figure.

Dressed in his finery, the embellished coat of black and blue hugged his shoulders, the garment tailored perfectly to his form. Strong legs encased in soft suede, the cloak draping his shoulders was a blood red. A simple gold crown adorning his black hair, he was the man of every woman's dreams, his masculine beauty almost faerie like.

Scoffing at the way the people fawned all over him, Serena shook her head. They thought him a _god_. A dagger in his chest would prove he was no less mortal than the commoners admiring him. Averting her gaze as the King slowly approached, her heart came to a sudden stop at the party following close behind. It seemed some unknown force had delivered the bane of her existence into her hands.

Taking part in the royal parade, close and distant relatives of the King waved exuberantly to the crowd. Wearing the latest fashion and showing off their wealth, they laughed and tittered. As women lounged in luxurious palanquins, men rode upon horses whose bloodlines traced back thousands of years. But it wasn't the beautifully dressed people that had caught her attention. In the midst of pompous nobility, rode the one she had been waiting for.

Tall, slim and with a voluminous mane of auburn hair, Alan Doyenne the Lord of Creswick, was a distant cousin to the King. Watching her rapist from beneath lowered brows, Serena broke out into gooseflesh, an involuntary reaction. As her eyes followed his every move, she was overwhelmed by vivid memories of a day never forgotten, the traumatic experience still haunting her dreams.

For almost a year, she had waited for this opportunity. The one occasion that brought nobility out from behind their walls. Having trained vigorously with a free-spirited gypsy who took pity on her, he had taught her the art of knife throwing, which was nothing short of incredible. Despite being a quick learner, her skill was still in the early stages, the gypsy often cautioning her to be patient and let the skill come naturally. With revenge the only thing on her mind, she paid no heed to his words, practicing the art with unhealthy enthusiasm.

Sliding off the back of her carrier and bowing when the King came and went, she counted to ten, each number drawn out when Lord Doyenne was finally within attacking distance. Darting forward in a burst of energy, she broke out from the crowd, running straight into the path of her enemy. Throwing off her hood, she met his eyes and charged.

The sudden movement startled the poor beast. Exposing its throat and chest as the stallion rose up on his hind legs, Serena dove in, plunging the dagger deep. As the horse let out an ear piercing scream, he tossed his head from side to side, his eyes wild, crazed as blood ran from the puncture. Tearing out the blade, blood sprayed across her face as she stumbled back, the stallion lashing out with his deadly hooves.

Bucking wildly towards the horrified crowd, Alan Doyenne pulled savagely at the reins, trying desperately to master the dying horse. As the royal party watched him helplessly, he screamed as the stallion threw him from his seat. Sailing through the air, he landed on the ground in a heap of mangled limbs. With no time to make sure he was truly dead, Serena watched as the King turned his horse. Charging back towards her, his eyes were dark with rage.

Forgetting everything she had learnt from the gypsy, she threw the dagger, launching it towards him with all her might. The throw was off, she knew the instant the weapon had left her fingers. However, it was too late; her impatience had gotten the better of her. Turning to run back into the sea of people and disappear into oblivion, she was seized by irate citizens, their cries of anger ringing in her ears. Struggling to free herself, a clout to the head had her losing consciousness.

Staring down at the commoners who held the would-be assassin captive, Darien glared at the unconscious woman. Taking in her golden hair, he frowned. For some unknown reason, he had a feeling he had met this woman before. Turning his head as his guards thundered towards him, he watched as Malachite slid off his horse, taking the woman from the men with a nod of his head. Tearing off the woman's scarf, Malachite looked up, his grey eyes flashing with rage.

"Shall I call for the executioner, Majesty?"

"Take her to the dungeons. I will deal with her later."

"But my King-"

"I will not have my birthday ruined by a public beheading, Malachite."

"As you wish, your Grace."

Seeing the look of disappointment on the face of his general, Darien gave a twisted smile. "The woman will get what she deserves._ I_ will see to it personally."

* * *

Opening her eyes to a world of darkness, Serena found herself pressed up against a cold, clammy wall, the smell of excrement and mold heavy in the air. Dank and close, her head throbbed with pain as the day's events came rushing back. Fighting the vertigo, she tried to focus on her senses. Wiggling her toes on the ground beneath her feet, the scratchy texture of soiled straw was damp with human waste.

Feeling something warm and furry scurry over her leg, she jolted, her movements hampered by cold iron. Tugging experimentally, she froze. Her limbs had been shackled. Pressing a cheek against the wall she squeezed her eyes shut. She had been a fool. A stupid, hasty fool.

"She's awake," Malachite murmured low in his throat as Darien nodded.

"Your will, your Grace?"

"Bare her back and bring me the whip."

"Yes, your Grace." Turning away with a smile, Malachite frowned at the two guards standing behind him, their faces blank. "Well, don't just stand there," he snarled.

Leaping into action, they were gone in a blink of an eye. Staring after the guards' retreating forms, Darien folded his arms. He would spare her no mercy. One lash for every year of his life. That was the punishment for trying to kill him.

A/N: I was a bit disappointed with this chapter especially with the pacing but oh well, I'm no Tolkein, Rowling or Martin. Also, a note of apology, the order of the royal parade is by far incorrect. Other than my insecurities, I thank you for reading. Any criticisms or suggestions or feedback will be most welcome. Another note, the next chapter may take a bit longer to come out. So sorry but i got tons of stuff i have to catch up on so its make or break!


	3. Chapter 2: Things in the dark

A/N: I know I said it would be awhile until the next chapter but I just had to write. It's a short one. A _very _short one. Just wanted to say a big thank you to my loyal readers. Thank you also for the reviews! Got me right back in the groove after a less than satisfactory chapter. I know I said things would be answered in the next chapter, but I thought, heck, just add this in.

Rated M for a reason. :).

Chapter two: _Things in the dark_

The dungeons beneath Shieldon Castle was one of the most feared places in all the land. Housing the worst of the worst criminals, many of the prisoners never saw the light of day, their spirits lingering long after their deaths. According to the guards, evil lurked in the dark. And it wasn't just the restless souls that haunted the living. Whispers of black magic and the Devil spread like wildfire and only the brave dared guard the infamous dungeons.

In a cell below civilization and shackled to a wall stained with the marks of past prisoners, Serena was fighting a losing battle against the growing pressure in her bladder. Cursing as rivulets of urine ran down her legs, she stiffened at the sound of a steel door swinging open, the advance of heavy footsteps approaching her with purpose. As the flickering flames of a torch appeared at the corner of her eye, she flushed in humiliation. Waiting for the guard to taunt or make a cutting remark about the smell of fresh human excrement, she was surprised when he did neither.

Tensing as the guard slashed at the fabric covering her back, she stiffened as he tore open the back of her plain linen shift. As the cold air trailed icy fingers down her bared skin, the guard left as quickly as he had come. Curling her fingers and toes to bring back feeling to her wrists and ankles, she swallowed as she braced herself for what was to come.

It wasn't the things in the dark that scared her but rather the man-made devices designed to torture. Leaning her head back as far as she could, she gazed up into the dark and prayed for protection from loved ones who had departed the world too soon...

* * *

"She's ready, your Majesty," the guard said handing the King the whip as he bowed low.

Taking the coiled leather, Darien looked to four of his generals who had come with him to the dungeons below. Giving them a brisk nod of his head, he turned to follow the guards.

Still unable to believe how a mere slip of a girl could ruin his name day, Darien worked the muscle in his jaw. Clenching the coiled whip in his hand, his conscience had him easing his grip. Having no qualms about beheading a man or lashing him within an inch of his life, he had no experience of punishing a woman nor had he ever. On the verge of passing the task to one of his generals, he paused thinking of how close the flying dagger had come to sinking itself in his chest. Lips firming, he shook his head. No; a hardened warrior, he would not let a mere woman soften his heart nor encourage leniency. If he wanted to restore law and order, he needed to be ruthless.

Entering the large cell, he paused as light filled the room. Staring at the flawless skin exposed to him on the opposite wall, he walked towards the prisoner and stood at her back, his body an inch from hers. Seeing her tense, he smirked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

"I will spare you no mercy, wench. Remember, I am not so easy to kill."

Walking back a considerable distance, he uncoiled the whip. Cracking the leather, he delivered the first blow without warning.

Feeling the whip cut deep into her skin, Serena cried out despite her determination not to. Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, she braced herself for the next lashing. As blood trickled down her back, she gasped as the next lash struck, torn flesh throbbing in time to her beating heart. Pressing her trembling lips together, she forced them to still, her teeth gripping the bottom to stop the sounds. But, damn she hurt; the pain barely bearable. As lash after lash fell one after the other, consciousness was fading fast and soon, she could no longer feel the sting of the whip, the throbbing of the lacerations or the blood running in rivulets.

Her mind receding to what remained of her consciousness, she waited for the next strike. Head falling forward, she panted against the wall, her ragged breaths labored and slow. Barely conscious, her knees bent in exhaustion, the iron chafing at her wrists. Having managed to stay conscious throughout the ordeal, she closed her eyes. It was over.

His arm aching from the repetitive movements, Darien shook it out, rolling his shoulder as he stared at the gore before him. Not once since the first two lashings did she cry out again. He had to admire that. Any weaker person would have begged, pleaded for him to stop. But not her.

Turning to look at his generals who had watched silently, he held out the whip to one of the guards who rushed forward to take it from him. Still slick with his sweat and her blood, he gave the weapon not another thought as he wiped his brow.

"Unshackle her," he said to the guard, his voice deep and low. "Tomorrow she will stand trial for her crimes."

"Shall we not put her in with Shinta tonight, Majesty?"

Turning to look at the man with short blonde hair, Darien frowned. "No, Jaedite. I will not put her in there. Shinta can wait until I am done with her."

"I was just asking, because we all know Shinta's been looking for a new friend."

"After the last one she sucked dry?" A man with chestnut brown hair queried as the generals laughed.

"Come now Nephlyte," Jaedite said with a grin. "You don't truly believe Shinta is a vampire?"

"Well according to the guards-"

"That's the thing with all the men here. Story tellers, the whole lot of them. Is it a wonder why none of them come out sane?" Jaedite remarked as the men chuckled.

Running a hand through his hair, Darien adjusted his cuffs."Well, then. Now that this business has been settled, what say we go and celebrate? Another happy year to the King, ey?"

"All hail the King!" came the resounding cheer as the King and his royal escort departed the cell, leaving the guards to carry out their duties.

As the sound of footsteps receded, Serena finally allowed the tears to stream down her face. Her body stiff from the trauma, she hung her head. As the guards removed her from the shackles, she was surprised at how gentle they were as they lowered her to the ground. The King's men, she had expected them to be rough and callous but the pair were not so.

Lying her down onto her stomach, she jerked when one of the guards removed his cloak, draping it over her. Crouching down beside her, the light of the flaming torch warmed her face as he looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. A good, honest face, she watched his lips as he spoke.

"Young lady, whatever it is you have against the King is not my business to ask," he said quietly. "But know this. You are fighting a losing battle. If you should be sentenced to life in the dungeons tomorrow, you must leave whatever it is in the past and think of it no more. It is the only way to stay sane in this place of horrors."

On the verge of consciousness, the guard's words had her lucid enough to defend her personal vendetta against his King. "You are asking me to forget? To leave everything in the past?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. "You are asking me to forget the way I was raped by the King's cousin? The way he murdered my uncle and cousin when they demanded he answer to his crime? The way he branded me to remind me that I belonged to him?"

Letting the tears run down her cheeks unchecked, she shook her head. "No, good sir. I cannot forget, or leave the past. I live and breathe in it every day, and my soul will not rest until I get the justice I deserve. The King will never believe me, nor has he ever, but as long as I have breath in this broken body, I will die trying."

Speechless, the guard who had spoken said not a word. His apology shining deep in his eyes, he stood up and nodded to his companion who was equally silent. Leaving her as she was, the guards said no more as they left. Out of kindness, they left a torch in one of the sconces, the source casting enough light to see in the enveloping dark.

A/N: This is the only update so far. I'm sorry the next one is coming but not anytime soon. Please stay you for reading!


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